


Papa Panic

by Scummy



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Babysitting, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Yoosung panics with his son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scummy/pseuds/Scummy
Summary: There wasn’t much that Yoosung Kim feared these days. If you had asked him during his college years, he would prattle a list of reasonable, if somewhat paranoid fears that would plague him occasionally; usually something along the lines of scarce self-validation, never finding love, or dancing dangerously close to flunking out of university.Now, Yoosung almost missed those days.“Minjoon-ah! We eat our food, not draw with it! Messy man! Yes—you! ” Yoosung chided his squealing infant, quickly grabbing the hand towel resting on his shoulder and bringing it to the high-chair before him.---------------------------------------------------------------Collab fic betweenWitchtomezand I for the Shooting Star Zine (A Yoosung Kim Zine)





	Papa Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Hello! [Witchtomez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchtomez) and I collaborated on this fic for the Shooting Star Zine! Since the zine has been completely finished, contributors are able to post their full pieces online now, and here is me and Witch's!  
> Please check her out if you haven't already- She writes a lot of amazing Yoosung fanfics!

        There wasn’t much that Yoosung Kim feared these days. If you had asked him during his college years, he would prattle a list of reasonable, if somewhat paranoid fears that would plague him occasionally; usually something along the lines of scarce self-validation, never finding love, or dancing dangerously close to flunking out of university.

        Now, Yoosung almost  _ missed _ those days.

        “ _ Minjoon-ah! _ We  _ eat _ our food, not draw with it! Messy man! Yes—you! ” Yoosung chided his squealing infant, quickly grabbing the hand towel resting on his shoulder and bringing it to the high-chair before him.

        Turning away from his son for just one moment to eye the baby food jars had allowed Minjoon enough time to make a sizable mess. Using his small sippy-cup as a makeshift pestle, he’d mashed his softened rice crackers into a sticky paste. As Yoosung began cleaning up Minjoon and his cup, he felt apprehension gnawing at his frayed nerves. His wife always laughed when their son did things like this, easily taking it in stride—why did it make him imagine the other, more dangerous, things that Minjoon could have managed in that split second?

        “How does mommy do this, hmm?”

        He sighed, cleaning mush from his son’s plump cheeks as he babbled excitedly. Yoosung could confidently give you the average habits during the growing stages of most common pets. He could list common foods that would dehydrate a dog quickly, and why exactly declawing cats was frowned upon in record time.

        In fact, he could tell you how to easily and properly care for animals away from their mothers without breaking a sweat.

        But  _ human _ babies?

        Despite all the parenting books he’d crammed, it seemed like Minjoon was speeding past his milestones every time he turned around; Yoosung felt he knew next to nothing, and found his teacher on the subject to be you, his adoring wife...

        ...Who was currently entrusting him to do what he’d never done for more than a few hours: 

        Entertaining the baby.

        By himself.

        He knew in dire circumstances, his mom could be relied upon—but admitting defeat? In caring for his own child? The thought of his mother’s  _ tsks  _ sent chills down his spine. He still considered himself fortunate to have escaped his university years with minimal damage—surely giving in to calling her would be the finishing blow.

_         ‘No, I can do this—I can!’ _

        Gathering a miniscule amount of puree on the rubber-coated spoon, Yoosung continued to coax Minjoon into finishing another quarter of the jar. The baby’s appetite seemed to be increasing day by day, but the longer it took to satiate his hunger, the more boring he found the feeding process—so Yoosung had felt a bit proud of his speed-boat motor sound effects as Minjoon happily accepted the goop.

        Minjoon certainly found it entertaining…apparently worthy of imitation.

        Having learned his lesson from breakfast that morning, Yoosung swapped his glasses for a clean pair stowed in his pocket. It wasn’t that he needed them—the surgery had amended his vision impairment some time ago—but there was merit in keeping them as protective eyewear.

        And they had been gifts from you, so they were  _ never _ worthless to him.

        Capping the jar and removing any more messy temptations, Yoosung calmly squared his shoulders and lifted the baby—chair and all—carrying them to the bathroom shower station so that he could at least keep tabs on the adorable little gremlin while he filled the plastic baby tub.

        Bath time was the one area Yoosung felt he did relatively well—though normally it would have been later in the day and not early afternoon. Sighing wistfully at the deep tub that would have to go unused (at least until you returned home); Yoosung focused his attention on gently scrubbing the muck off as Minjoon burbled and splashed in the lavender-scented suds.

        Once again, he fell into an enamored daze with how his own family had grown. Years ago, this was a wistful daydream that he craved, just out of reach. And now, as Minjoon let out a giggle while the soft washcloth brushed against his chest, Yoosung could hardly believe this wish had seeped into reality.

        After a bit, the bathwater had cooled to less exciting temperatures and Minjoon raised his pruney fingers to signify he was ready to move on from the activity. Chuckling at the expectant look on his son’s round face, Yoosung unfolded the fluffy towel and held an end with each hand, extending both index fingers for Minjoon to grab on and pull himself to a wobbly standing position.

 “That’s my big boy!” Yoosung encouraged, wrapping and tickling his wiggling child. Setting him down on a dressing pad spread over the carpet, Yoosung wedged some rolled hand towels beneath the small shoulders and set to quickly diapering Minjoon. Dodging his kicks, Yoosung caught the chubby feet and blew raspberries into the soles, making him squeal in laughter.

        Grinning at the sight, Yoosung inhaled and prepared himself for the tricky part: re-dressing the little imp.

        Worse yet, the clothes he had laid out weren’t where he’d intended them. Climbing to his feet, Yoosung bent over Minjoon with a silly expression that had him clapping his hands and feet together excitedly.

        “Min...stay here, okay?”

        Minjoon responded with an impressive spit bubble, cooing when it popped.

        “Right…you don’t know what daddy is saying yet, do you…” Yoosung laughed weakly before sighing, adapting too many workplace stress habits.

        Re-entering the bathroom, he eyed the hamper; lifting the lid yielded no results, and it wasn’t beside the hamper—then he looked down.

        “How did it fall behind—its right against the wall…oh well, Min—Minjoon?!”

        The towel barricade had proven useless; one side lay defeated, and Minjoon was nowhere to be seen. Instantly, the terrifying hypothetical scenarios he’d imagined came rushing back, and Yoosung rushed from the room.

        He nearly called again when he heard gurgling down the hall. How Minjoon crawled so fast, Yoosung would never know, but when he spotted where his son was headed…

        “Nyaaa~” Lisa drawled, concentrating in her litter box as the tiny human clumsily approached her, eager to give more awkward pats despite the less-than-inviting situation. Thankfully, with a dramatic burst of speed, Yoosung leapt forth and scooped Minjoon into his arms before he could crawl into the cat box  _ with _ the family pet.

        “You just got clean, don’t you dare! Let’s go play in your area and let Lisa join us later, ok?”

        Minjoon, as expected, only understood that he was  _ not _ going to pet the kitty and his lip quivered dangerously. Fear seized Yoosung at his core; clutching the baby to his chest, he deposited him to the safety of his blanket covered play mats and hastily pulled out the bin of favored plushies while aiming the remote at the television.

        Surrounded by a buffet of comfortable distractions, Minjoon happily took a toy in each arm, leaning against his father; slumped on the floor as a relieved, exhausted puddle. With the play mats arranged flush against the chaise corner of the couch, Yoosung opted to become the remaining walls of the makeshift enclosure by angling his legs to reach the end of the chaise.

        After fifteen minutes of quiet, Yoosung covertly snapped a selfie with Minjoon, the latter too enraptured by the bright moving colors on the TV to notice.

[Yoosung ★ has entered the chatroom]

Yoosung ★ : Hour 8 without the wife—still alive.

ZEN: Oh! There’s the little man!

Jaehee Kang: He’s growing so big!

ZEN: Ikr? Haha, but…dude

ZEN:  You look like hell.

Jaehee Kang: That’s a bit blunt but…I don’t think I’ve seen you look this drained since before graduation.

Yoosung ★ : Hah…yeah…Minjoon woke up at 3AM…so papa did too.

ZEN: OOF. Your poor skin.

Yoosung ★ : It’s ok—if Mama can do it, then Papa can’t let either of them down!

Yoosung ★ : …I really hope he naps soon.

Jaehee Kang: Oh no…

ZEN: rip…good luck

Yoosung ★ : thx—I’ll figure this out somehow…

[Yoosung ★ has left the chatroom]

        Closing his phone, Yoosung looked down where his child’s fuzzy head lay against him—still quietly focused on the screen. Taking this chance, Yoosung tugged Minjoon into his arms and slid up to the softer cushions, moving slowly to not break the baby’s focus. Settling into the seat, Yoosung reached to drag a chenille throw from the back of the couch until it was comfortably draped around them. Minjoon seemed content to lean against his father’s chest—until he began knocking his head back against Yoosung’s sternum, turning his face up when his papa groaned.

        “I know—Papa isn’t as comfortable as Mama, but go easy on me, hm?”

        Yoosung knew his son didn’t understand, but he found the toothy little grin too charming and snuggled him close while the program continued, his mind wandering while Minjoon sat engrossed.

The day felt much later, but the clock on the wall proved otherwise. Your planned one-day vacation was still hours from ending, and while Yoosung was happy that you were getting some much needed relaxation, he was still looking forward to your return.

        With the thought of you on his mind, and his son snuggled close, he was lulled into a comfortable trap; Yoosung began to drift…

 

* * *

 

        A shrill cry brought him immediately to his feet; his still groggy brain only connecting two things together: 1.) Minjoon was no longer resting on top of him, and 2.) he was crying  _ somewhere _ . Operating on semi-autopilot, his feet carried him to the source of the wailing.

        It was only when he stumbled into the kitchen, finding his son reaching fruitlessly toward the freezer door and wholly unscathed, that he finally began to breathe.

        “Teething pains again, huh?” He rasped, voice wobbling from his recovering shock.

        Minjoon looked over; pouting heavily as his eyes glistened, he willed for his father’s comfort.

        Teething pains were the guilty culprit behind that morning’s early wake-up as well. Opening the freezer, he extracted the teething toy Minjoon reached for, happy that his cries had receded to murmurs once the toy was in his grasp.

        Despite the brief nap he had just had, Yoosung felt even more exhausted once his heart finally calmed its frantic beating. While he loved Minjoon and was excited to watch him grow, the worry drained him far more than the years where he dedicated all-nighters to his computer screen.

        He couldn’t believe you dealt with this at least five days out of the week and still managed energy to prepare the homemade baby food…

        …yet it certainly explained your excitement about the spa trip, gifted to you by his mother. Overbearing or not, Yoosung had to admit that she really did know best most of the time—what frustrated him was not knowing if this was due to her innate skills or just experience, neither of which he seemed to possess as of yet.

        “Better now? No more tears?” Yoosung stared into his son’s wide eyes; Minjoon babbled up at his father, gumming the soft, cold gel toy.

        “You know, ‘abwbwabwa’ isn’t far off from ‘appa’ or ‘papa’, Miiiin~”

        Yoosung’s sing-song lilt was met with slightly louder baby-blathering; grinning, he gently squeezed Minjoon and withdrew the baby-walker for some safer playtime exercise. Sticking his pudgy legs through the seat willingly, Yoosung took a wet wipe to his hands and legs before allowing him to take off and make a beeline for Lisa. The cat, having become accustomed to this, flicked her tail and bounded up her cat tower to safety.

        Smiling sympathetically, Yoosung mentally noted to give the cat treats later and started pulling out ingredients for simple kabocha bisque.

        …At least, it was  _ supposed _ to be simple—the ingredient list wasn’t extensive by any means, but the small winter squash had an impressively tough skin. The last thing he needed was to break the knife or the cutting board—Yoosung made another note to invest in whetstones along with upgrading the knives—but after cautious perseverance, he finally managed to split the gourd into sections.

        Then chaos erupted.

        Minjoon was capable of occupying himself in the baby walker while meals were prepared; Yoosung had seen you plop him in there more than once to devote focus to cooking like he was currently, but today didn’t seem to be in his favor. While reviewing how long he needed the bisque to simmer, a crash followed by a heavy thud had him dropping his phone and rushing over to his son again.

        Nearly trampling Lisa who had descended to investigate, Yoosung found Minjoon still in his baby walker. While it wasn’t upturned, Minjoon’s snack bowl certainly was, and the two photo frames on the wall had fallen to the floor.

        In his ragged state, all Yoosung could put together is that the frames were close to his child, and there was thick, red liquid splattered on the boy’s face and dribbling from his nose...

        “Minjoon?? Are you alright?” Yoosung was on his knees immediately, rushing forward to see how bad the damage was. Jumping at his father’s sudden appearance and the sound of his poorly concealed distress, Minjoon started a hiccupping wail that shattered Yoosung’s heart.

        Biting his lip to keep from sobbing himself, Yoosung hastily grabbed the few things he needed for the doctor, a stuffed toy for Minjoon and was charging at the door.

        Or, well, he had attempted to.

        The face gaping at him from his welcome mat had his breath freezing in his lungs—

        “M-mom? Why are you—NO WAIT! I need to go to the hospital!”

        He attempted to slide past, but her hands caught his shoulders firmly before moving to embrace the weeping baby.

        “Yoosung, give him here! Turn off the stove!”

        Another flare of dread had him spinning on his heel as he stumbled back to shove the soup pot from the burner and shut it off. Not even allowing himself a sigh of relief, he spun again and tried to run out the door—until he realized his mother had entered and was surveying the damage.

        “Mom, what are you doing?! We have to get Min to the hospital now!”

        “Wait.”

        He hesitated, not understanding the lack of urgency—she was holding a  _ bleeding infant _ —Yoosung almost puked over this happening on his watch, and doubly so when his sniffling child rubbed his face before sticking his fingers in his mouth.

        “MOM—stop him! He’ll get sic—“

        “Yoosung …”

        She turned the capsized bowl upright and inspected the spill closely—then she wiped the rest of the mess from her grandson’s face and kissed his cheeks until he was giggling again.

        As soon as she swiped the red off Minjoon’s nose with her thumb, Yoosung felt his shoulders slump as it came off with ease. He didn’t even need to hear his mother’s explanation as his exhausted, hysteria-addled mind finally recalled Minjoon’s breakfast:

        Mashed plums with pomegranate juice.

        Shutting the door, he silently sank completely to the floor until his vision was obscured by cool tile. Five minutes passed quietly, save for the baby’s cooing and Lisa padding over to sniff curiously at his face before purring loudly.

        Eventually, footsteps approached. Yoosung reluctantly opened his eyes, bracing for the disappointed lecture. As she eased into a nearby desk chair with an exhale, he drew himself into a kneeling position, keeping his eyes on the floor.

        ‘ _ Here it comes—’ _

        “Have you calmed down yet?”

        His brows furrowed, unsure if the concerned tone was better or worse; it was certainly unexpected.

        “I’m…fine, I’m just…”

        He huffed, irritated with himself; feeling the sting in his eyes, Yoosung grew further frustrated as he swiped angrily with the back of his sleeve. In his haste, he caught his mother’s worried expression as she tilted her head and waited for him to compose himself.

        “Son, tell me what’s wro—“

        “I’m terrible at this! I studied everything and I’m still useless—as a father and a husband!”

        There was a sniffling whimper; Yoosung’s head snapped up in horror to see Minjoon’s tears matched his own. Crawling forward, Yoosung tried to rub soothing circles on his back.

        “Minjoon, no…papa’s not mad at you. I didn’t mean to yell—! “

        His mother’s quiet laughter interrupted his apology as she thumbed the tears from both child and grandchild.

        “Both of my young men are very sensitive. That’s enough tears—let’s address this ‘bad father’ nonsense immediately.”

        Yoosung paused before climbing to his feet, following her to the couch; she sat him down, returning Minjoon to his arms before reseating herself.

        “So…’ she cast an eye around the room, ‘—you put him in the walker to make dinner and then he made a noisy mess. In your haste, you forgot not only that you left food out, but that you also baby-proofed the house so well that there isn’t even glass in these rounded picture frames?”

        Yoosung felt his mind screech to a halt, realizing the truth in her statement.

        “I did…b-but he was crying so terribly..?”

        “Before or  _ after _ you started panicking? Babies are sensitive, especially the more they bond with their parents—that’s why it’s important to remain calm, hm?”

        Hesitating, Yoosung peered at his reflection in his little boy’s eyes; a perfect match to his own, right down to apprehensive crease between his brows. Minjoon leaned over to snag the nearest plush before pushing it to his father’s chest. When Yoosung didn’t respond, the boy pelted him with the toy forcefully.

        “Abababa…bababa—APBA! ABPAAAAAAA!”

        Startled at the outburst, Yoosung spluttered, laughing as he accepted the stuffed bunny at his son’s insistence; satisfied, Minjoon then head-butted Yoosung’s sternum while grasping his shirt.

        “See? You’ve done so well, your baby is now telling you to take a nap! What a smart boy!”

        Still chuckling, Yoosung leaned back against the cushions, stroking Minjoon’s back slowly.

        “I’m so bad that my son is caring for me now?”—a quick admonishing smack had him wincing out of reflex rather than pain.

        “You hush—the only way you can be bad is if you don’t try. Besides, Minjoon is a smart baby. How would he call you ‘appa’ just now if he didn’t believe in you, hm?”

        Unfolding the blanket, Mother Kim laid it over them as Yoosung sat frozen, choking at the realization.

        “Really?” He timidly looked down at Minjoon, smiling as his son met his eyes. “Min, is your father doing a good job?”

        He could only hope the growing stain where Minjoon chewed on his shirt was a sign of approval.

 

* * *

 

        When he awoke this time, he felt lighter—finally free of panic. Sleepily glancing out the living room window, the sunlight had faded…so Minjoon would be in bed if…

        Yoosung slowly sat up, removing his glasses as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, finally spotting you. You had secured your spot at the end of the couch, resting his feet on your lap; he was uncertain how you managed to be comfortable like that.

        “Hey there, ‘Appa’,” You grinned, making Yoosung chuckle. “Feeling better?”

        “Aw, she told you first?”

        “Among some other things, yeah.”

        He watched you pick some lint from his pants, before pinning him with a more worried expression. “Why didn’t you bring up these weird worries you had, Yoosung?”

_         Oh. _ The weariness vanished completely at your query as guilt took its place. With a sigh, he felt you gently set his legs down, maneuvering until you were sitting beside each other.

        “Well...”

        Despite how the day passed, and how stressed he’d gotten; one thing confirmed was that he did  _ not _ have the same resilience to sleep deprivation as before. Additionally, his current worries had much higher stakes now—the fear of being unreliable to his precious family culminated in relentless self-induced anxiety.

        “I didn’t really notice until today. Or…maybe they were always there, but I never took them seriously until—”

        “—Everything went ‘wrong’?” You asked, air quoting with a soft smile. “I won’t be too harsh since you already heard it from your mom, but…”

        You reached over and squeezed his hand, resting your head on his shoulder.

        “I know…the second I didn’t feel like an expert, I freaked and let the stress talk, huh?” It was hard for him not to chuckle with you after that admission.

        Weaving an arm around his waist, you perked your head up to catch his gaze. “Remember your old LOLOL username?”

        “SupermanYoosung?” He recalled, a tinge of embarrassment coloring him as the childish nickname left his mouth.

        “You’re still my ‘Superman’, honey.”

_         A-ah! _ Yoosung felt his cheeks burning, harkening back to when the two of you had first started dating. After all these years, you could still effortlessly make him so weak!

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoosung swore the smug pride you took in flustering him melted his worries away. He knew he’d been ridiculous in letting negative feelings overwhelm him, but it wasn’t until being confronted by his family, Minjoon included, that he realized how much.

...How soon was ‘too soon’ to admit you were super in his eyes as well?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this! If you did not like this or do not like my work in general, please do not leave me comments saying so. I am not looking for any critiques. Thank you!  
> As a reminder, please please check out [Witchtomez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchtomez), she and I collabed together on this fic, and she writes amazing Yoosung fics!  
> An additional note: This will be the last Mysme fanfic I'll be posting. I'm done with the game, lost interest, and lost my motivation for finishing any WIPS. I'd like to say that I'll finish wips, but I'm just done with the game and fandom, unfortunately. Movin onto other things, but I appreciate all the support you guys have given me!   
> I'll still be on my blog, mmscum.tumblr.com, but I'm def gonna be writing fanfics for other games in the near future. Sorry.


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